Disclaimer: .......................... honestly, does this really need to be said?? if i was akira toriyama, which i'm not, why would i be writing fanfic... and in english??!! i rest my case... whatever case that was... *oro* @_@


Chapter Two: Bulma's Wrath


Bulma sat, legs crossed daintily at the heel in front of her writing desk. She brushed the tail of her feather quill gently over her face. Each tendril caressing her pale cheek. Her mother had stormed in just over a half hour ago, demanding that she right a heartfelt apology to Signor Valentio for the embarrassment and pain she caused him while Bulma insisted that Signor Valentio had brought about his own demise. If he wasn't fit for the job, then that was his problem. Her mother, Bulma had to admit, did have a rather good retort: "Bulma, darling, I don't know where you've gotten the notion that a well bred husband must be able to hop about on one leg while reciting all the great philosophers." Bulma had stared unblinking at her mother. Honestly, she did not consider this at the time. Bulma fell back into her chair, legs spread before her in a very unlady-like manner. She blew some of her vibrant blue hair from her face before looking at her small roll of parchment.

Signor Valentio... It was there she had stopped for the honest truth was that after those two words, nothing but vehemence would shoot forth from her quill tip. She gazed disapprovingly at the floor where a cluster of five torn and crumpled rolls of parchment lay strewn. All with the same necessary greeting at the top... giving way to a fiery spew of brutality. Bulma giggled lightly. If her mother ever caught those... oh, would she spend her days in a convent begging repentance.

There was a slight knock at the door and Bulma's day maid peered in. She looked flustered and out of sorts with herself. "What is it now, Maria? I have no time to be bothered by nothing." Bulma sighed heavily as the maid's eyes darted quickly to and fro as if decided what to do with herself. Bulma heard a low chuckle escape behind Maria's back. Bulma rolled her eyes. "Maria, really, this is no time to be bringing your 'friends' around. There is work to be done without being wasted..." "Am I truly a waste of your time?" Bulma was a bit taken back by the strange man who stood at her threshold. He was short in stature but a power... a commanding presence radiated like an aura.

Bulma narrowed her eyes, turning her body towards him, folding her hands in her lap. "Can I help you? If your looking for Chi Chi, the little twit has run off somewhere," she scoffed.

Vejita took her in for a second. She wasn't particularly attractive. He had seen better equipped prey but then she wasn't hideous. She had clear blue eyes that he had never seen in an Italian like that. She had fair hair pulled at the nape of her neck with wisps escaping to frame her face. He had definitely seen a more appetizing array of flesh but a challenge was a challenge and Vejita Petruchio never backed down. He gave a sardonic smile, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. "Actually, I'm not here for your counterpart, m'lady." He said with a bow at the waist. "Ah..." she commented knowingly. "I will have you know, I'm not interesting in a self centered fool who believes himself to be brave enough to challenge 'the Shrew'." she spat venomously. He chuckled once more. Bulma looked up surprised. It was an interesting sound. She guessed originating from deep in his chest. It was very masculine.

She shuddered mentally remembering the older Signor Rosetti who had come seeking her favor. He was a great deal older than she, maybe the age of her father. She had winced when she heard of his arrival. Have I become that undesirable that only old, withering men seek my company? But she had not let the pain show in her eyes, not when she heard, not when her mother had chastised her for her refusal to meet him. "Beggars can't be choosers, young one," the older woman had said. The clincher to her hatred had been the old man's horrendous horse like whinny of a laugh. It could cause cathedral glass to shatter. She had politely thanked Signor Rosetti for his visit before escorting him to his waiting carriage. He had trouble climbing in and had to be lifted by his footman. Before riding away in his carriage, that seemed almost as old as himself, he had leaned from the window. Telling her that he was always open for her as an option. She had shivered with disgust as he placed a chaste kiss with his shriveled lips upon her youthful cheek. Oh, the shame...

She looked away from the window where she had been staring, collecting her thoughts. 'Of course, there's always, Signor Rosetti. With my luck, he would die shortly after we were married. I would probably be the youngest widow in all of Italy. The richest, but the youngest nonetheless...' She gave a burdened sigh.

Vejita had sat on a plush couch within her sitting room, directly across the writing desk. He had noticed when Bulma looked out the window captured in her thinking. He dismissed the flustered maid. He gave a slight smirk. No doubt the little chit was taken with him, as was much of the female population of Italy. As it should be, he thought with a nod. He watched as Bulma seemed lost, looking at her reflection when all too suddenly she turned her fiery gaze upon his form, lounging peacefully. "So what do you want?" she asked, her cold eyes searching his own. His eyes... it's almost like there's nothing there. But there's something...

He threw his head back and laughed. Making a show of much effort, he gustily picked himself from the couch. Upon his arrival at the other side of the room, he handed Bulma a bouquet of flowers, seemingly from thin air. "Oh, how original," she gasped in mock surprise. "I'm not very original," he began, crouching down beside her. "But then, I'm not very common either." She quirked her head to the side. "You seem to hold a high opinion of yourself." "In certain ways, m'lady, I am quite superior." She scoffed, "As if your head could any bigger. You're beginning to bore me with your presence." He leaned in closer to her face. "Really? What would make our little interlude more exciting?" he asked invitingly. She batted her big blue eyes at him, luring him, when suddenly they narrowed. She sneered. "Maybe if you threw yourself from my window, it would give the townspeople something novel to discuss instead of my seemingly 'shrewish' behavior." His eyes closed to mere slits of hateful black. "If that is how you would treat my hospitable presence, then so be it." He stood up abruptly, almost colliding the top of his head with her chin. She flew back startled.

He sneered at her while she regarded him with annoyance and anger. "I had brought you something else, m'lady." "And now you will not give it to me," she said, crossing her arms. "On the contrary, I had thought not to give it to you, but perhaps, now, the time is perfect." Turning away from the window, she eyed the handsome young man before her with suspicion. He slipped one hand deep in the left hand pocket of his black coat. Carefully, he placed his hand face down on her writing desk, cupping something small and round under his hand. Bulma peered curiously until he peeled his hand away.

There in the middle of her right desk, sitting upon the unfinished letter to Signor Valentio, was... "A rodent?! You brought me a rodent?!" He chuckled again, yet this time, to Bulma, it seemed much more sinister. "Oh, not just any rodent. Don't you recognize it?" He waved his hand at the tiny brown mouse creature scurrying over her papers and quills. She just stared at him with a blank expression. "It's a shrew..." he whispered, leaning down into her face. "I thought perhaps you would be more comfortable with your own kind, m'lady." He grinned wickedly, watching as her face changed to sheer horror. "Oh!" she growled. "You are a wicked man. I have half a mind to wring your neck." He smirked. "What? I went all the way to the heart of the city for this, your next of kin, and you show me no appreciation. Lady Bulma, you have much to learn in the ways of the gentlewoman." She turned her face to the window. "Leave me, you horrid beast, and may I never see you again!" He watched her for a few moments before complying. He stalked out of the room. The short heels on his boots clicked upon the tile flooring. He slammed her heavy chamber door behind him. He stood outside her room. 'What I did was right. The woman should learn her place.' After confirming his actions, Vejita began to walk the corridors. He was searching for someone. 'Where's that blasted maid?' He smirked. 'I was expecting a little something tonight, and I don't care which wench as long as she suits my needs.' His eyes darted around the airy main hall. 'Perhaps. I should try the kitchen...'

If Vejita had stayed any longer by her doorway perhaps he would have heard, he would have heard the sound of a broken girl crying....

"Maybe he is right" She sniffled and wiped her eyes on the corner of her sleeve. "You and I are alike," she whispered, stroking the soft top fur of the small creatures as it nibbled the corner of her parchment. "Maybe you and I are alike... I will call you Amistad, because you are the closest thing to a friend I will ever have."


Bulma awoke the next morning to the sound of her window curtains being violently flung apart. She opened one eye, squinting at the garish light that infiltrated the room. "Chi Chi?" The younger girl gave her a withering glance. "No, it's your fairy godmother." She shook her head as she noticed her elder cousin had not changed from her wear of the previous day. And what was more, that her elder cousin looked to have fallen asleep upon her writing desk. "Tell me, Bulma," Chi Chi sighed, "that you at least finished your letter to Signor Valentio. The one begging his apology." Bulma's head snapped up from their place. Her cold voice ground out every word of her reply. "I owe that man nothing. He should be so grateful that he escaped with his life." Chi Chi shook her head with despair causing her black as night curls to quiver in their place. What had life done to her cousin to make her so vengeful towards men. Bulma stood, measuring up her younger relation: the "fair" Chi Chi. The girl was naive to think that men had a backward thought to her mind or her heart. Bulma knew in her righteous mind what was what.

Bulma searched for her small companion around her desk. Finding Amistad poking about the hem of her curtains. She scooped him up and deposited him in an old rattan bird cage. Chi Chi shuddered at the small rodent. 'How does one bare such a disgusting awful thing?' she questioned herself. Chi Chi looked about the room. The stifling silence needed to be broken. She changed the subject. "So I heard a young man was about you yesterday?" she giggled. Chi Chi shuffled about the desk, rearranging papers, that she neglected to notice how Bulma's figure had stiffened. "I heard he was quite the charmer," Chi Chi looked up concerned. "In fact, I heard your chamber maid, Maria, talking about him this morning. Some awful dirty things, Bulma. I almost wish to have her fired. The ways she carried on about him...." Chi Chi studied Bulma's face as the older girl stood upon her toes, inspecting her new pet in its new surrounding. It was so hard to read Bulma Briefs sometimes. If she had been born a man, she would have made an excellent actor. "It does not bother that I speak of this, cousin?" she inquired. Bulma turned her icy gaze to the chaste yet spirited young girl. "No, it does not bother me what that man does... or who he does it with. His life is of no consequence to me." Chi Chi grew nervous under Bulma's intense stare that she broke away to cross to the other side of the room.

She cleared her throat. "I met my new tutor the other day. He is going to teach me Latin yet I do not think he knows a word. No, I do not." She shook her head, chuckling. "Still, his innocence and gullibility amuse me." "I am glad you are happy." Chi Chi looked up again as she watched Bulma play with the cage. The light from the window in the background gave her an ethereal aura. Chi Chi caught her breath. There was almost a look of sadness on her cousin's face. Of any emotion she did dare to show, sadness was one of the most rare. "This is how I am to spend my days, is it not?" Chi Chi again looked away. She could not bare it. She could not! 'My pillar of strength... my Bulma. Please be strong. For with out your strength, I know I will be lost.' "Perhaps," Chi Chi broke the silence yet again. "Perhaps if you did not push the men away..." "They did not want to be here, Chi Chi. You know as well as I that a man with a hearty purpose is not easy dissuaded. Then, I was not in their hearts... but rather in their pocketbooks." Chi Chi nodded and stood up firmly. "Then we shall wait until a hearty heart comes to you," she stated, the mirth clear in her eyes. Bulma turned to her, astonished. " 'We'? This is not laughing matter, young one." "No, I do not jest at all, cousin. We will wait, both you and I, for this man who seeks to have you in his heart. We will wait together." And for the first time, the cousins did not disagree. Bulma did not retort with spite and Chi Chi did not experience her cousin's vengeful wrath. No, both cousins stood in the golden light of the morning, completely content to be at peace with one another.


Kakarotto stepped out into the crowded streets of the marketplace. He had stayed up most of the night waiting for his dear companion to come home... but to no avail. He ended up sitting alone at the "gentleman's club" down the street only to crawl into bed at two o'clock this morning. The reason for his insomnia escaped him a bit. He brushed it off as worry. But it was not his traveling partners that held his thoughts most of the time. It was the joyous Chi Chi, his new pupil. Kakarotto blushed suddenly. He admitted he knew nothing of the language of love though he vowed to teach it to her. Suddenly, he had an idea and rushed to the corner bookstore. He had an appointment with his lovely student in the afternoon. If he was going to teach her the ardent language of love, he had better learn it himself!


After wondering about in the back woods of the Briefs' estate, Vejita found himself back on the main road to town. 'But first,' he thought to himself. He sidetracked back off the road until he came to a small stream. He had heard the gurgling and the laughing of the water and had simply followed the mirthful sounds. He stooped over the crystal clear liquid, admiring his reflection until he happened upon a small red stain on his chin. 'No doubt the wench's rouge.' He scoured it from his skin furiously before slapping some water to his face and running one hand through his hair. Using the liquid reflection as a mirror, he adjusted his wild mane of hair back into perfection and tightened the small black silk ruff around his neck. Silk was a rare and precious commodity he knew. And he took every expense to make himself seem the most eligible bachelor... the kind literally bursting with wealth. Vejita's light mood suddenly turned dark. 'But nothing I could do, would appease her.' He grinned. 'But she seemed awfully pleased with your parting gift, did she not?' He smirked. 'Serves the little chit right.' He walked away from the brook, smoothing his coat. 'I wonder if a scold such as herself could ever feel anything?' He asked himself in a apathetic tone. 'I bet she's stone cold from the waist down.' His indifferent face turned to a snicker, then a sneer. He strolled leisurely into town. Yet his mind was on his previous night's escapade. He had no doubt his little side dish had told all the maidservants of his "excellent performance." He wondered how the Lady Bulma would react such she hear such news. She would probably be bitter that she had missed out on a wild ride. (*rolls eyes* men!) Vejita, however, quickly chided himself for even thinking that her opinion would ever matter. For they simply did not, he nodded in confirmation to no one in particular.

Vejita made his way into town, sidestepping the various kiosks and stopping once to purchase a light breakfast. He walked by the flower stand where he had purchased the roses the day before. The same little skirt was selling her wares. She recognized his face and waved curtly at him. He smirked and nodded in her direction. 'Not now, Vejita,' he chastised himself. Last night's affairs had led him energized yet ready for more. He shook his head in annoyance at his own lust and continued back to the tavern below the inn, where he expected to find Kakarotto. He was dissapointed when he did not find his comrade seated the bar awaiting his arrival. But then Vejita knew that he should not depend on Kakarotto for anything. He did not need anyone. Yet, deep down he craved the feeling that someone was waiting for him, who existed for him. Vejita shook his head, disgusted. "And Kakarotto should not be that person," he muttered.

* * * * *


any thoughts on the subject. no worries, i definitely have an idea of what's going on and what's gonna happen. i'm sort of enjoying the angst aren't u?? but "The Taming of the Shrew" wasn't as angsty as it was comedic. see: "10 Things I hate about you." not exactly the same but u get the point. copyright quote: "I still maintain that he kicked himself in the balls." ~ Kat Stratford. love that quote. i hope bulma's char is coming across close to flawless. *sigh* we all can hope... enjoy. i'm writing the next part tomorrow.

Contest Index
Chapter 1
Chapter 3